


When It Counts

by Adli (ti_ana)



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-18
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-20 13:05:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/887612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ti_ana/pseuds/Adli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buu has been defeated and the Earth is safe once again. But the thought of Vegeta killing those people at the Tournament is still nagging at the back of Bulma's mind. How are she and Vegeta going to deal with what he did? One-shot conversation piece. Canon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When It Counts

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: DBZ belongs to Akira Toriyama and everyone else who has obtained rights to it over the years. I’m just a lowly fan who wishes Vegeta had gotten much more character development than he did.
> 
> Author’s Note: I like missing-moment canon one-shots, can you tell? There are just so many holes that weren’t properly developed and I like trying to make them work with my own imagination. I’ve worked on this piece off and on over the years and this is what it ended up becoming. Let me know what you think!

Mental exhaustion was finally catching up with her. Too many things had happened over the course of the last several months and now she finally felt like she could breathe again. Her friends and her family were alive and safe again. _She_ was alive again. The thought exhilarated her.

 

“Mom…”

 

She pulled away from her thoughts and glanced down at the boy sitting on the table next to her, his blue eyes twinkling in the light from the kitchen. With a smile, she tousled his hair affectionately. “What’s up, Trunks?”

 

“You looked like you were a million miles away,” the boy replied.

 

“I’m sorry, kid,” Bulma said with an apologetic smile. “I was just thinking how nice it is to be able to put all of this behind us for good.”

 

Trunks nodded and focused his attention on his mug of tea again. “Yeah,” he said. “It was pretty scary when Dad died.”

 

Bulma’s brow furrowed a little as she stared off absently into space again. “Yeah,” she agreed softly. “It was.”

 

_What was even scarier was watching him mindlessly blow up a stadium full of innocent people for no particular reason whatsoever_. The thought echoed in her mind. She was glad her son had been spared the sight of his father behaving that way. As happy as she was to have Vegeta back, as proud she was at the knowledge that in the end he had finally been able to put his own selfish ambitions aside to save the planet, the memory of his wicked smile as he raised his hand to fire a ki blast at the audience in the tournament still made her shudder with fear.

 

They had all gotten back from their fight with Buu earlier that day and the reunion had been a happy one. Vegeta had been aloof, as usual, not really mingling with the rest of the Z Warriors, even as Bulma and Trunks had approached him. Trunks had grabbed his father’s hand in excitement, and though Vegeta hadn’t responded to the gesture, he also hadn’t pushed the boy away. When Bulma came up behind them, he had met her eyes solemnly and she had been taken aback at the look of gratitude she could see shining in them. In that moment, she hadn’t cared about what had happened before. All that mattered to her was that she had her family back.

 

To celebrate their victory, she had invited everyone over to Capsule Corp for a party the following day, which had been met by enthusiastic responses. Since she didn’t have her ship with her, she had flown back in Vegeta’s arms, Trunks flying beside them. The boy had prattled at them the entire ride back, claiming not to be tired upon arriving at home. Vegeta had disappeared somewhere around the house and Bulma, not physically tired either, had taken Trunks into the kitchen for some tea, hoping that it would help them sleep. It hadn’t taken long for Trunks’ excited chatter to calm down.

 

“I knew something was wrong when Dad started telling me to take care of you…” Trunks’ voice brought her back to reality once again.

 

Bulma blinked at her son. "What are you talking about, sweetie?" she asked carefully.

 

Trunks’ gaze was focused on his tea mug. “He told me to take care of you and then he said something about how he’d never hugged me before… so… he hugged me.”

 

By now, Bulma’s mouth was hanging open. “Vegeta… hugged you?”

 

Looking up at his mother, Trunks nodded and tried to stifle a yawn. “Goten was watching, it was really embarrassing. Buu was coming at us, but he wouldn’t let us fight with him. Next thing I know, I’m waking up at Dende’s Lookout and he was dead.”

 

Bulma knew Vegeta had knocked out the kids in order to get them away from the battle. She’d heard the story from Piccolo shortly after they’d told her that Vegeta had died. But she’d had no idea that Vegeta had hugged his son. She had never even gotten him to hold Trunks when he’d been a baby. _You never cease to surprise me, Vegeta…_

 

Trunks let out a loud yawn and blinked sleepily.

 

“Are you tired _now_?” Bulma teased.

 

“Maybe a little,” Trunks admitted.

 

“Alright, then, time for bed.”

 

“Aw, Mom, come on. Do I have to?”

 

Bulma laughed. A few months before, she might have been annoyed at this old routine. Now, she was so happy to be back to normal life that it was refreshing to hear her son whine about the little things he didn’t want to do. Still smiling, she nodded. “Don’t argue with me, Trunks, I know you’ll sleep like a log as soon as your head hits that pillow.”

 

Trunks rolled his eyes, but downed the rest of his tea without another protest and hopped down from his chair. “Night, Mom.”

 

Bulma pulled him into her arms. She kissed the top of his head, and then rested her cheek against the spot, holding him against her chest. “Moooom…” came Trunks’ muffled objection, but Bulma ignored it for a few more seconds. Then she let him go and gave him an affectionate pat on the back as he moved towards the door. “Good night, Trunks.”

 

He paused by the door and glanced back at his mother curiously. “Can I say good night to Dad?”

 

Bulma shot her son a comforting smile. “You’ll see him tomorrow, don’t worry.”

 

He grinned back at her before leaving the room. For a moment, she could see in his place the 17 year old teenager who had come back from the future to warn them about the androids that would destroy their planet. She couldn’t believe how fast time had seemed to pass. In a few years, her little boy would become that young man. This version of Trunks, who was being partially raised by Vegeta, was turning out to be quite different from that future Trunks. He had more of an arrogant streak than his future counterpart, but was also more carefree and his smiles reached his eyes in a way she had never seen in her son from the future.

 

She didn’t mind it at all; she loved them both equally, as if she had two sons rather than just one. Both had some inherent qualities to them that she cherished: the determination to constantly better themselves, the fierce sense of justice, even the way they blushed at their mother’s displays of affection. And yes, that nagging desire to impress and be accepted by their father in the most unconditional way. This Trunks, however, idolized his father in a way the other one never got a chance to do. She had always secretly feared he would be disappointed by Vegeta in a similar way future Trunks often was. Had her fears been unfounded?

 

With a sigh, she cleared the table and headed upstairs to the bedroom she had shared with Vegeta for the past several years. She was not surprised to find the light off and the flame haired Saiyan nowhere in sight. The room had a dim glow that came from various lights outside, and Bulma preferred the darkness, so she didn’t bother turning on her light. She turned her head towards the bathroom door, but that too was shut and no light was coming from underneath it. Wondering where her husband had gone off to, she sat on her bed and absently undid the scarf on her neck. She tossed it carelessly on the bed next to her and was moving to take off her shoes, when out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of a figure outside in the balcony.

 

She rested her elbows on her thighs as she leaned forward to make out the silhouette sitting on the balcony railing. With his back leaning against the wall, one leg was dangling over the outside of the railing and the other one was pulled up against his chest, a muscled arm draped over it lazily. But it was his unruly flaming hair that gave him away. Even in the dim light, she could recognize her husband anywhere.

 

After removing her shoes, Bulma rose from her bed and wandered over to the balcony sliding door. She stopped right next to it, leaning against the entrance and looking at the pensive Saiyan curiously. He had changed out of his battle uniform in favor of loose gray sweatpants and a short sleeved white t-shirt that clung to his body like a second skin, much like everything else he wore, due to his muscled frame. It was obvious that he knew she was there—Vegeta was always extremely aware of his surroundings— but he didn’t even turn his head to acknowledge her. She hesitated, taking a few moments to admire his profile before stepping out into the balcony.

 

“Aren’t you cold?” she asked, shivering in the light breeze.

 

“No,” was Vegeta’s crisp answer. He still didn’t move.

 

She walked up to stand next to him and raised her gaze to the sky, not ready to meet his eyes directly yet.

 

“Trunks was asking for you,” she murmured. “He wanted to say good night.”

 

“Is he in bed?” he replied after a short pause.

 

Bulma nodded and finally turned her head to examine his profile. “I think once all the excitement wore out, he was actually pretty tired. It’s been a long, strange few days.”

 

Vegeta didn’t reply for a few moments. Finally, he turned his head to look at her. Bulma shivered again, but this time it wasn’t because of the wind. For once, his expression was relaxed, unguarded. He held a look in his eyes unlike anything she had seen from him before. It was something akin to weariness, yet still containing the same intensity as always whenever he looked at her. “Go back inside, you’ll catch a chill, dressed like that,” he stated, before turning back to look at the sky.

 

Bulma glanced down at the short sleeveless red dress she had worn on the day of the tournament. Wrapping her arms around herself, she countered, “Come with me.”

 

When he didn’t answer, Bulma followed his gaze out into the night sky. He had been staring at one specific spot the entire time she’d been out here and she wanted to know what it was. But all she could see was thousands of stars, none of which stood out as anything particularly interesting to look at.

 

Vegeta did this often. Whether or not he knew she saw him doing it, Bulma wasn’t sure. She had never wanted to broach the subject, fearing he would brush her off, but she had always assumed he just liked to sit there to think. Now, though, she was almost certain there was more to it than that.

 

“Vegeta,” she said, reaching out to touch the arm he had draped over his knee. She didn’t wait for his acknowledgement. “What are you looking at?”

 

For a few silent moments, she thought she was not going to get a response. Then, to her mild surprise, he finally gestured by raising his other hand to point at a specific spot on the black canvas. “Right there. Between the bright blue star and the dim yellow one.”

 

Bulma’s eyes found the spot he was pointing at, then wrinkled her brow in confusion and turned back to study his face. “There’s nothing there.”

 

She watched as the muscles of his jaw clenched. “No. Not anymore.”

 

She gazed back at the empty spot, considering his words. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her and she sucked in her breath as it dawned on her. No, there wasn’t anything there _now_. _But there was, some thirty years ago_ , she realized.

 

“Vegeta, was that…?” she trailed off, not knowing how to finish the sentence.

 

“My home planet has been gone for decades. But the time it takes for light to travel here made it seem as if it was still there,” he said absently. “All these years, I have been able to look at that spot and it has been like glancing into the past. I could almost pretend that my home was still there, my people still alive.”

 

She nodded slowly, finally understanding. The planet wasn’t there anymore to produce light. The reality of the explosion had finally reached Earth’s position and now the space the planet had previously occupied was simply void. He couldn’t even see a reflection of the past anymore. Any remaining physical ties that Vegeta may have had to his past through that spot of light were truly gone.

 

Pursing her lips, she leaned her head against the arm she had been holding on to. “I’m sorry, Vegeta.” Her words caused him to snap his eyes away from the sky and look down at the top of her head.

 

“I have few memories of Planet Vegeta,” he told her. His voice held the usual no-nonsense, matter of fact tone he often used. “No attachments. I don’t even remember what my father’s castle looked like. I spent more time in Frieza’s ship and the pod I traveled in than the planet where I was born.”

 

Bulma frowned at that, partly in confusion and partly in sadness at the thought of everything he had lost. She attempted to put herself in that position, something she had done over and over throughout the years whenever she thought of Vegeta’s past. If it had been Earth that was destroyed and she was the remaining survivor, what would she have done? It was impossible to imagine losing her home and everything she knew, especially at such a tender age and under the circumstances Vegeta had faced. Not for the first time, she found herself in awe of her husband’s strength of character and survivalist spirit.

 

Lifting her head to meet his eyes, she murmured softly, “If you have no attachment to it, why do you sit here to look up at it all the time?”

 

He shook his head and leaned back against the wall, eyes closed. “It wasn’t the planet itself that I’ve missed,” he replied softly. “I’ve never known what it is to have a home.”

 

“Earth is your home,” Bulma said firmly.

 

He opened his eyes to look at her and snorted. “Please. This planet is populated by ungrateful, oblivious idiots. I couldn’t care less what happens to this place.”

 

Bulma felt a flash of anger. “If we suck so much, why did you bother to wish us all back?”

 

“Because we needed all the goddamned energy for Kakarott’s stupid Spirit Bomb,” Vegeta snapped with irritation. “It was the only chance we had at destroying Buu.”

 

Bulma crossed her arms across her chest and turned her head away. _Hmmph. So_ that’s _how he really feels._

 

“Besides, I knew you and Trunks would be upset if you were wished back and didn’t have a home planet to return to.”

 

The soft admission made Bulma start. She slowly turned her head back to find Vegeta’s black eyes trained on her face, watching her expectantly. Words escaped her as she considered what the proud Saiyan’s words could possibly mean. Before she could say anything, Vegeta swung his legs around and hopped off the balcony rail, landing in front of her. His hands encircled her biceps firmly, which made her look at him curiously.

 

“Let me make something very clear, Bulma,” he growled. “I could give a rat’s ass what happens to this pathetic planet. Earth is only home to me because it’s home to you. The only two things I give a damn about in this entire universe are you and Trunks. I did what I did for you both, and no one else. Do you understand me?”

 

Bulma nodded numbly in astonishment. “Vegeta…”

 

She didn’t know what to say. Was he finally admitting to her, after all these years, that he cared about her? That her happiness and that of their son’s actually mattered to him despite years of swearing to the contrary? 

 

Finally, she snapped herself back to reality. She struggled to put words to the question that had been plaguing her mind since she had witnessed the destruction he’d wreaked at the World Tournament. “Answer me one thing, then.” Vegeta’s gaze didn’t falter. “What happened at the Tournament? Why would you kill all those people?”

 

A look of shame crossed his eyes. He released her arms and turned his back to her as he lifted his gaze back to the night sky. “I—I allowed Babidi to take control. I craved the simplicity and power he provided.”

 

“But why?” Bulma took a step closer to him and tried to stare into Vegeta’s eyes, but the Saiyan refused to meet them. “You just told me you care about your family. Things were going so well since the Cell Games. _Nobody_ forced you to stay; you decided that on your own. And you’ve always been fiercely proud of your own strength and your ability to obtain it on your own. Why take what Babidi was offering?”

 

Bulma watched as Vegeta’s jaw clenched and unclenched, as if fighting an impossible internal battle. She waited patiently, expectantly, knowing her answer would come sooner or later.

 

She didn’t have to wait long.

 

“Because I hated being content with this life! I allowed myself to become soft and weak.” Vegeta let out a frustrated growl and briefly met her eyes before turning his head away from her again.

 

Bulma pursed her lips. “I didn’t know you were so unhappy.”

 

“I wasn’t,” Vegeta bit out. “That’s just it. I _wasn’t_ unhappy.”

 

“So you were upset that you were happy?” Bulma shook her head. “I’m trying to understand you, Vegeta, but you have to meet me halfway…”

 

“Don’t you see, Bulma? I wasn’t meant for this life. I don’t know how to be part of a family. I am a warrior, and my destiny was to avenge my people, establish myself as the strongest being in the universe, and rule over it. _I_ should have been able to achieve Super Saiyan level before Kakarott. _I_ should’ve been able to defeat Frieza. I should’ve been able to defeat Kakarott and prove my birthright as the true Prince of my race.” He shifted in his weight and crossed his arms defensively. His dark eyes finally met her azure ones directly. “I wanted—no, I _needed_ —to return to the way I used to be when I first came to Earth, when I only cared about power. It was simpler to care only about myself.”

 

Bulma watched her husband silently, taking in his words, trying to understand him. She knew she shouldn’t take it personally, but a big part of her couldn’t help being offended at the thought that Vegeta considered the family they had built together a liability. All these years, she had thought their relationship and the birth of her son had changed him for the better and all along, he thought he had changed for the worst.

 

With all her strength, she pushed back the hurt within and tried to view the situation from his perspective. She had known when they began their relationship that he had a troubled past. Neither of them had intended their liaison to last more than a few months. He had never made a secret of his desire to defeat his rival—her best friend—and return to space. It was only the circumstances of that time that had convinced him to stay and raise a family. Wouldn’t it be natural for him to question his decision? She only wished he’d openly spoken to her about it before, but she couldn’t say it was shocking that he hadn’t.

 

The sound of his voice cutting through the silence of the evening startled her out of her thoughts.

 

“I did what I did at the Tournament to get Kakarott’s attention. Even with Babidi’s power, I was still unable to best him. Knowing that Buu had gotten so powerful because of me, and that you and Trunks would die if I didn’t do something…” he trailed off, thinking about his next words.

 

“So, how do you feel now?” she asked him, wondering if she even wanted to know the answer. “Do you still regret staying on Earth to play house with me?”

 

Vegeta shook his head silently. “I never have,” he responded, his voice so soft that Bulma had to strain her ears to hear him. “I just think I’m fine with not regretting it now. If that makes any sense.”

 

It did, oddly enough.

 

“Vegeta,” Bulma replied finally, a soft sigh escaping her hips. “You are a lot of things, but trust me, soft and weak don’t even come close to describing you.”

 

The corner of Vegeta’s mouth lifted in amusement. “You say that because you are a weak Earthling woman,” he retorted.

 

Bulma narrowed her eyes in exasperation. “Just for once, can we have a civilized conversation without you baiting me?”

 

Vegeta gazed at her evenly, his half smile spreading a little more. “I can guarantee you if my father had a grave, he’d be rolling in it, as you humans say.”

 

“And why does that matter to you?” Bulma snapped, already irritated. “Why is pleasing your father still so important to you after all these years? You stopped being subject to Frieza’s bidding just to be subjected to your dead father’s? Why can’t you just live your own life the way you want to and to hell with everyone else’s opinion?”

 

This was what he loved about her; it was her fire, her no nonsense attitude that he found so attractive, even more so than her curvy body and exotic coloring.

 

“I suppose it’s high time I do,” he stated. He looked up at the empty spot Planet Vegeta had occupied before. Bulma wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek against his shoulder.

 

“Trunks is so proud of you… even if he is pissed that you didn’t let him try to fight with you.”

 

Vegeta was silent.

 

“You know, he told me what you did before you knocked him and Goten out.”

 

“Damn kid,” Vegeta muttered. But there was no malice in his voice, only embarrassment.

 

“I won’t tell anyone.” Bulma smiled against his shoulder, before moving her head to place her chin where her cheek had been.

 

“No, but he will,” Vegeta grumbled.

 

Bulma chuckled and kissed a spot on his neck before resting her chin against in shoulder again.

 

“If you ever pull something like that ever again, I will go to Namek, gather the dragonballs, wish you back, and kill you myself.”

 

Vegeta’s hands dropped to his sides and he turned around in her arms. “As if you could,” he responded, his voice laced with mirth.

 

“Goku will help me,” she promised with a sly smile.

 

His arms snaked around her waist and in a few steps, Bulma found herself pinned against the balcony wall and Vegeta’s iron muscles.

 

“I’m proud of you too, you know,” she murmured as his lips brushed against hers. “You’ve come a long way since I’ve known you. You’ve managed to come through when it really counts. Even Porunga agreed when he brought you back to life.”

 

Vegeta frowned. “Kakarott can’t seem to keep his mouth shut, can he?”

 

“Don’t worry, he only told me,” she teased. “Your badass persona is still safe with everyone else.”

 

Suddenly she felt his hands slide past her hips to cup her buttocks and she squealed with delight when he lifted her against him. Her legs went around his waist on pure instinct and within moments, her upper back was pressed against the wall again. His lips were attached to her neck, one hand still on her behind, while the other worked its way up her torso to caress her.

 

“You think it’s a persona, huh?” Vegeta murmured against her neck.

 

Bulma giggled involuntarily as his lips tickled her neck. “Go say good night to Trunks…” she murmured.

 

Vegeta rolled his eyes and spoke against the crook of her shoulder. “What is your obsession with saying ‘good night’ before going to sleep? What difference does it make? I’ll see him in the morning.”

 

“Also, I haven’t said I forgive you…”

 

“I didn’t ask you to forgive me.” Vegeta raised his head and graced her with his overconfident trademark smirk.

 

“You’re such an ass…” Bulma replied affectionately.

 

“You wouldn’t have it any other way…”

 

All other conversation was immediately extinguished as his hands continued their practiced exploration of her body. Bulma didn’t mind.

 

She really wouldn’t have had it any other way.


End file.
